My Heart Is Pumping, Crying Out For More
by Boys Should Kiss Boys More
Summary: Kurt needs to get off, so Blaine steers him in the direction of a sex club; it's all fate's doing, though, that he happens upon Sebastian there. Written for the GKM.
1. Crying Out For More

Kurt leaned against the threshold of his large window that allowed him to look over the busy and bustling streets of New York; he had a glass of Moscato in hand, and a contemplative look on his face, though no one was around to see it. Twenty three, living alone, no one to call his own—and rhyming in the eerie silence of a quiet Sunday evening in his one bedroom apartment. He really was going to pieces, wasn't he?

Kurt sighed and shook himself out of his thoughts. Vaguely and only for a moment, his mind drifted to Blaine: sweet Blaine, naive Blaine, kind and funny and solo-stealing bastard Blaine—that Kurt would always love on some level, but never the same way that he loved him in high school. College and the real world changed a person, and it had especially changed Blaine. Kurt rested his temple on the cool glass of the window, remarking on how the break up had been a gigantic mess full of lies and deceit, and how next week they'd probably get lunch.

He laughed softly to himself. Life was strange in what it threw at you, when and where. He downed the rest of his glass and turned his back on the Big Apple for the night, fully planning to finish his latest reading conquest—_The Lost Wife_, as recommended by a friend of a friend—as well as finishing that bottle of Moscato that had been bought for a dinner date never realized. He laughed, again, this time just a hint of bitter in his tone. Shrugging it off, Kurt did just as he intended and trucked to his bedroom, book and whine and favorite quilt in his grasp.

)

Kurt blinked slowly behind his sunglasses, ignoring Blaine's too-loud laugh directed at him.

"Finished that bottle?"

"What do you want?" Kurt disregarded the question, instead focusing all his attention on drinking the coffee before him—Blaine's treat, for calling on him so early on a Monday morning. "I could be sleeping."

Blaine shrugged. "I heard from around the block that you aren't liking all these blind dates I've sent your way."

Kurt glared at Blaine through his fingers, "one of them had a monocle Blaine. He was at least my father's age."

Again, Blaine shrugged. "I don't judge." He held up his hands in surrender. "But, you're horny right?"

Kurt looked around, alarmed and his head throbbing. When it was clear that no one was listening to their conversation, he nodded gently so as not to further agitate his migraine. "What about it?"

"I've got the perfect place for you."

Kurt stared back, silent. He recognized the grin on Blaine's face: cat like and mischievous, one that would either end in strife or exactly what Kurt needed. Or quite possibly a little of both.

"Lay it on me."

)

Kurt's hands were shoved deep and shaking in the pockets of his sleek, gray pea coat. A scarf was wound around his neck and his cheeks were surely pink from the cold night air biting him outside. Under the coat was a thin shirt, with a low dipping collar, exposing his upper chest and his two, and only, tattoos:

Across the upper part of his right pectoral were the lyrics, maybe a bit predictable, _"Take these broken wings and learn to fly,"_ and across the middle part of his left pectoral, just above his nipple, were the lyrics, _"And please, say to me, you'll let me hold your hand."_ Both, of course, representative of his parents.

Kurt looked around slipping out of his inattention, faintly hearing a voice directed at him; sure enough, it was a woman, behind a glass booth in little more than a bikini. He hurried over, nervous and face pink now of embarrassment. He smiled briefly.

She grinned back. "First time here?"

"Yeah." He dug around in his pockets, searching for the informational coupon Blaine had slipped him that early Monday morning. "Blaine Anderson also wanted me to remind you to—?"

"Put a credit on his account, of course." The woman rolled her eyes. "I swear, he makes friends for the sole purpose of sending them here and getting discounts."

Kurt laughed, easing his nerves. "Sounds like him, alright."

The woman laughed as well, as she took the coupon and his small wad of cash; she fiddled with the cash register, and out of a slot in the counter popped a bright pink paper bracelet—not much different from that you'd get at a carnival or at the hospital. Kurt stuck his wrist out and she fastened it, then patted his wrist. "There ya go, ready to mingle?"

Kurt gulped in some air before answering. "I think so." He grinned, and the woman gave him a reassuring wave and nod.

"They'll be eating out of the palm of your hand in no time, sweets."

Confidence restored at least a little bit, he nodded back. "Of course."

And with that, he moved towards the bouncer who was deliberate in his checking for bracelets, as well as patting down anyone who may seem like they were wearing club contraband—drugs, pills of any sort, any drinks or any weapons. The club had strict rules regarding anything that went inside the club, as well as everything that went on inside: all participants were tested, made to provide an address, a working phone number, and anything significant in their medical records, including allergies and hospital admissions.

As mentioned, they were _very_ thorough.

But that had only served to calm Kurt's apprehensions about going to a club like this. A sex club, for hook ups, without the awkward kind of-sorta of-but not really dating beforehand. There was no tense dinner and weird, do I/don't I kiss on the doorstep. It was smooth and easy and, Kurt really had to hand it to the club owner, it was _sexy_.

It was all dark blue lights with splashes of pink, and hot breath on hotter necks and flushed faces floundering in crowds of grinding, humping, pure _sex._ Kurt yelped as a hand undid his scarf and wrapped it seductively around their own neck. "Hey," the young man, a good three or four years younger than Kurt, purred, plastering himself to Kurt's body.

Despite inner inhibitions and nerves till tingling, he let go of them and rested his hands one the boy's hips, grinning wicked back at him.

The boy, as cute as he was, was easily distracted, wandering after a bulkier man heading towards a room labeled "Glory." Kurt's interest was piqued, but he too was distracted, this time by a rather handsy lesbian.

Her fauxhawk was a bright and popping cherry red and her grin was accented by a smiley piercing, looking bright and painful attached to the frenulum of her upper lip. Her boobs were small but apparent in the wet tank top that she was mindful not to press against Kurt. It was only as she started to undo the buttons of his pea coat that he realized the twink he danced with had taken his scarf.

The woman, though, looped her arms around his neck and murmured admiration for his tattoos, able to properly see them. A few feet behind her, Kurt could see a girl watching careful and amused, and probably this woman's girlfriend, ready to step in should things get too heated.

Yet, before Kurt could really consider the possibility of getting his ass kicked by the girlfriend, the red fauxhawked one was kissing him, her piercing pressing against his teeth and sending shivers down his spine. His hands rested right in the oddly perfect dip of her back, and stayed there, never moving an inch. Their tongues wrestled, and Kurt let her in deeper; she was anxious to explore every inch of his teeth, the underside of his tongue. She allowed him to return the favor, and they broke apart with mutual, raspy moans.

"Not bad, for a boy," she teased, patting his cheek and nipping at his kiss swollen lips.

"Back at you." Kurt bit at her fingers playfully as they traced his lips. She laughed and winked, then wormed back into the crowd. Kurt watched her for a moment, seeing her girlfriend's eyes still lit with mirth.

Kurt, once his attention was back in his own mind, realized how hot it was to keep his damn jacket on—and that the boy from before still had his scarf. He made a quick detour to the coat check in, praying that no jackass tried to steal his jacket (it was expensive, as well as being his favorite) then made his way to the room labeled Glory.

It was, if possible, even darker in the hallway; at the end he could see the faint, dim light of a dim room. Even from this end of the hall, he could hear the moans and groans and the sounds of walls shaking and flesh slapping against flesh. A shiver of arousal ran down his spine, propelling his feet forward despite any possible trepidations.

He passed several slightly ajar doors, the moans getting louder and more obscene as the hall went on. His attention was caught by a familiar hushed voice, the twink! He looked around, but it was still dark; he made to move towards the door, but instead tripped right into a passing body.

"Woah there," a deep voice rumbled. "Looks like you tripped on some clothes." Kurt looked down and squinted. Lo and behold, there it was, his scarf. "Yours?"

"Yeah, a dance partner forgot to give it back." Hand still being held by the Bear, Kurt knelt and grabbed the pink and orange scarf. "Uh, what—what is all this?" He motioned to the hallway.

The man chuckled, voice smooth and attracting. "It's Glory."

"So I gathered," Kurt replied, temper maybe just a tad short from the growing problem in his pants. He tried to tone it down, though.

"Each room has two doors," the man motioned to all the firmly shut doors that Kurt hadn't even noticed before. "Each room is split in half."

Realization dawned on Kurt pretty fast. "Oh.." He nodded, heart picking up and arousal thrumming in his veins. "How—how do they get paired up?" He licked his dry lips, narrowly avoiding biting his cheek.

The man smirked, Kurt able only to see his lips in the minimal lighting. "Come with me." Kurt followed with light and quick footsteps, polar opposite from the long, confident strides the burly man strutted with. He held the door, the one Kurt had seen at the end of the hallway, open and allowed Kurt inside first. "You sign up for a room, and in no time, there's a dick ready for you."

"You make it sound like an assembly line or something."

A passing person, Kurt was fairly certain it was a drag queen, called out "an assembly line of cock!" which sent the man into a fit of gruff giggles.

"It's all safe," he assured after the laughter had passed. "All the questions are on the sheet, you just fill out with what makes you most comfortable. Shouldn't take more than ten minutes to fill out and no more than five for a guy to meet you there."

"Is it completely anonymous?" Kurt asked, though that was the least concerning part to him.

The man nodded, then shrugged. "If you want it to be. You can always meet each other outside the room, before or after the fun." He grinned, nudging Kurt towards the stack of sign up sheets. "Enjoy the ride."

Kurt flushed pink but ignored it as he grabbed a sheet of paper and a pen lying beside the stack, then retreated to a chair along the wall; the receptionist-secretary-gorgeous young man at the desk watched him with a grin. Kurt smiled back hesitantly, then began to fill out the form.

_Would you prefer to use a condom? _ Yes _ No _

_If yes, please specify during: _ Anal _ Oral _ Other_

Blinking blankly at the option of other, Kurt smoothly marked 'No' and moved on.

_On the next lines please specify any scenarios that make you uncomfortable; also put any characteristic that make you uncomfortable:_

Kurt contemplated this for a moment, chewing on the end of the pen. Well, too much pubic hair was definitely a turn off, but was that something to put on this sheet?"

"Do it," said a voice.

Kurt looked up, startled.

The man at the desk was filing his nails and spoke again, "do it. Better to get what you want than what you were afraid to say no to."

Kurt nodded, humiliated that he'd been speaking out loud. He glanced back at the form.

_Would you rather be on the receiving end? _ Yes _ No_

_If yes, please specify during: _ Anal _ Oral _Other_

Again ignoring other, Kurt marked 'Yes' as well as 'anal' and 'oral.' He could only imagine the unattractive flush on his face.

"I think it's cute." The man commented, smirking.

Kurt nearly stabbed himself with the pen, in that moment.

A few excruciating minutes later, the form was complete and handed over. The man gave him a card to place around the handle, and the key to his door of room 17. After a quick bout of directions, Kurt was settled in the room, boots rested against the nearby wall, and pants undone to relieve the pressure on his dick.

Aroused anxiety began to set in, and his hands shook as he waited, and waited, and waited for what felt like hours for someone to answer his call. He gnawed on his lip, swallowed nervously, paced in the small, confining space. At some point, though, in the midst of his overwhelming anxiousness, he heard the creak of the door beside his room, and the rustling of clothes being discarded.

Kurt gasped, loudly and with the slightest hint of a moan breaking through, at the absolutely _gorgeous _cock that slipped into the hole, half hard and waiting for Kurt's eager mouth.

It's head was flushed a deep pink, and just through the edge of the hole, Kurt could see fingers leisurely stroking the base. He shivered and dropped to his knees. Immediately, he brought his mouth to the head and took an experimental lick. That startled a groan out of the man on the other side and Kurt relished the thrill that rippled through him. Carefully, he bat away the man's fingers and reached with two fingers for the edge of the man's pants, tugging him deeper into the hole.

The man obliged, groaning again as the entire length of his cock, and a hint of his balls, were available to Kurt.

Licking his lips, he dived in, one hand curling around the base while the other suckled on the head. Instantly, more gracious, loud groans greeted and thanked him. Kurt moaned light and low in his throat, soaking up the attention. _This_ is what he needed, what he wanted. Just straight up _sex_ with a guy who had a _fantastic_ cock. He moaned, free hand curling into a fist against the wall.

"Oh, fuck yeah, so good." The voice moaned, sending shivers and pride down Kurt's spine. "You touchin' yourself? Getting off on my cock?"

Kurt keened and flattened himself against the wall, hand previously around the man's dick slipping off so that Kurt could take more into his mouth. He stopped only when the head and beads of precome hit the back of his throat, almost too much but not quite. He breathed in deeply through his nose, and finally dropped a hand to his straining cock. Slowly and tauntingly he stroked his fingertips over the slit, the ridge between shaft and head. His hips stuttered up into his hand, smearing precome across his fingers.

"Oh yeah, gonna come so fuckin' hard." The words spilling from the man's mouth would have been grossly cheesy in any other instance—but there, and then, with Kurt's lips wrapped around his cock and the thin wall between them, barely disguising the familiar voice—there and then, they were exactly what Kurt craved.

Kurt peeked open one eye, which begged the question as to when had he closed his eyes, and focused on the voice reaching him.

"Fuck, so good," harsh pants, breathless and desperate, "been needing a mouth like yours," a choked up tone, the man was probably going to come soon if Kurt didn't stop. "Wanna fuck you."

Kurt wasn't sure why it was _those_ words out of all the other filth, but something clicked and suddenly a face swam to the forefront of his mind to accompany the voice.

Kurt pulled back, shocked; but his mouth was followed by the dick, the man on the other side moaning "no, no, no, baby come back," and bumping into his lips, spreading ejaculate across his mouth.

Kurt licked up the mess, the taste burning his tongue just as the new revelation made his face and ears burn.

Sebastian Smythe: the smirking, meerkat faced jackass from high school; the young man who had taken over his father's company despite numerous busts on getting caught with this guy or that and generally being regarded as a slut, just as he was in high school.

Kurt swallowed down Sebastian's precome, and felt a dirty flush encourage him. He licked a stripe from the base of Sebastian's cock to the head; then, he dropped his voice and octave and spoke.

"Fuck me, then." He stood and shimmied out of his pants, cock springing into the air of the compact room. He groaned, slowly jerking himself as he tugged the single chair over, baring his ass to the hole.

Sebastian groaned and just knowing who it was made it all the more _hot_.

Kurt squeaked, disguised voice failing him, as two cold fingers slid along his crack, teasing his balls barely then pressing against the muscles of his hole. His arms rested on the back of his chair, and out of the corner of his eye, Kurt could see the muscles in Sebastian's forearm working as two fingers pressed into Kurt. He had a tattoo, as well, a line of music notes wrapped around his wrist. Kurt keened as Sebastian's fingers rubbed his inner walls, and as he wondered what the notes played.

"Oh yeah, yes," Kurt bowed his head, rolling his hips against the intruding hand. Sebastian gave a gruff laugh, Kurt could see his smirk. "Harder, more," he demanded, and spread his legs when a third finger probed at him. Moving slowly, he fucked himself back on Sebastian's fingers, taking lewd pleasure out of the fact that he was the only one in the know.

"Want me to fuck you? You want my dick?"

Kurt gasped breathless against his own hands, licking his lips and nodding before remembering that this was no ordinary encounter.

"Yes," he answered, voice low and disguised again. Sebastian laughed once again and as Kurt turned to face his dick, he could see slender fingers beckoning him closer to the hole.

"Get over here, then."

Kurt obeyed, setting himself up and spread open for Sebastian. Slowly, a cock head—Sebastian's cock head—teased across his hole, barely dipping in before retreating, then repeating the process. Every time he returned, Sebastian would press in a little deeper, another inch or so. And, just when Kurt was least expecting it and preparing fully to damn anonymity and scream at Sebastian to just _fuck_ him already—just when it reached a boiling point, Sebastian swiftly buried himself inside Kurt, and didn't move.

Kurt didn't realize it immediately, but when he _did_ notice the long, drawn out moan spilling from him, he snapped his mouth shut, clenching fingers around the chair and denying his blush.

There were a few half hearted humps into him, from Sebastian. "So vocal," Sebastian groaned, "love it."

Kurt grinned, lips stretching back as he through caution to the wind, and refused to restrain any noises that may have wanted to escape him. Every moan and gasp and extended keen, he just let them loose, much to Sebastian's delight.

Kurt could feel fingertips scratching at his thighs every now and then, as Sebastian reached a finger or two in along side his cock to get at Kurt's skin. The rub and slight scratching set his already sweating skin on fire, and Kurt couldn't stop the quakes that overtake his body. One hand curled around his dick, his raised the other to pinch at his nipples, shivering at the shocks that trickled down his spine.

"Oh—oh god, Se—shit! God, holy fucking—!" Kurt bit his tongue so hard he expected to taste blood as he narrowly avoided screaming Sebastian's name.

"Such a fucking mouth on you," the irony is lost among the sound of skin on skin, "a filthy mouth, so hot," the sheer desperation in Sebastian's tone was stunning, and Kurt vaguely wondered when the last time Sebastian had a lay as good as Kurt. (Sue him, he's a little cocky in bed.)

"Are you gonna come?" Kurt asked, reaching back to tease his fingertips along the rim of his hole, breaking in and stretching himself right alongside Sebastian's slick cock. "Gonna come inside me? Make me dirty?"

Sebastian groaned and his thrusts picked up speed. "Fuck yeah, yeah," a thump sounded against the wall, drawing Kurt's attention to the fact that the wall was flimsy as _fuck_ and had been rocking and thumping for the better part of their encounter.

Kurt pressed back and met Sebastian thrust for thrust, both their voices increasing in pitch and volume and speed. Kurt's softer "ah, ah, ah,"s growing longer; Sebastian's smooth, thin unrelenting stream of swears.

"Shit, shit, so good, fuck, such a perfect ass—!"

Kurt groaned and tightened his grip on his cock as Sebastian's come spilled into him, cock still pistoning in and out of Kurt. Finally, both Kurt's pace on his cock, and the speed of Sebastian's hips slowed down, and their highs settled into post-orgasmic hazes. Come was pooling and cooling on the seat of the chair, and he could fear Seb's come in his ass, no doubt ready to spill once Sebastian pulled out.

"God, Kurt, so good."

Kurt froze and tensed. Either Sebastian had been eerily good at knowing when to imagine himself fucking Kurt... Or...

Sebastian's laughter reached his ears, and Kurt felt both shamed and angered, but didn't move. "Chill," Sebastian coo'd. "I didn't know it was you until I first started fucking you."

The moan: the long one, drawn out and seemingly never ending. Kurt hadn't worked to disguise his voice, hadn't been aware of anything other than Sebastian's cock in him, at that moment.

"Careful, I'm pulling out now."

Kurt hummed, breaking into a gasp as he was suddenly left feeling empty and wetter than really comfortable. Despite that, though, the feeling of satisfaction was overwhelming and still very present in him.

"So, wanna grab a drink?" Sebastian's voice was accompanied by the sound of a zipper and a belt being fastened. "Then, round two at my place?"

Kurt stood, knees sore and legs quivering in fucked out bliss. He grabbed a few of the tissues set aside for clean up, and did what he could to make himself feel a little less sexed up. "Will you buy me breakfast in the morning?"

Kurt didn't get an answer right away, so he hurried to gather his clothes and slip out into the hallway; he came face to face to a smirking Sebastian, hands moving at once to Kurt's hips.

"I'll _make_ you breakfast in the morning," Sebastian agreed, expression cocky and infuriating and so god damn arousing, all at once.

"Deal." Kurt snapped, allowing himself to be lead out of the club.

Sebastian drove past each and every bar, never stopping until they reached the steps leading up to a lavish apartment complex; as they rode the elevator to the top floor, sneaking sexually tense glances at each other and little coy smirks, Kurt made a mental note to thank Blaine for sending him to the club.


	2. The Morning After

Sebastian all but slammed Kurt against the penthouse door once they were inside. Kurt made a slight noise of protest, but his hands wound in the fabric of Sebastian's jacket all the same, tight and desperate. Sebastian groaned into the kiss, nipping at Kurt's lips and running along the edges of his teeth, whimpering when Kurt had the balls to bite down lightly on his tongue.

"Fuck, Kurt, so hot."

Kurt grinned, just a hint scheming. He moved his hands, rubbing Sebastian's body as he tugged Seb's face closer. "So you've said," he growled, licking the seam of Sebastian's lips.

"Wanna watch you ride me, suck you off." Sebastian moved his lips to Kurt's neck, sucking bright red-purple hickies onto the soft, salty skin.

Kurt laughed, startling Sebastian out of his seduction.

"What's so funny?" He asked, indignant. Sebastian pulled back, and Kurt was quick to hush any possible insecurities that seemed to bubble beneath the surface.

"I'll ride you some other time.." Kurt leaned in close and licked the shell of Sebastian's ear.

"You aren't leaving, are you? Because leaving me with this fucking mountain of a hard on is the biggest bitch move you could pull."

Kurt laughed again, shaking his head. He moved away from the door, following his instincts to the bedroom, tugging Sebastian along behind him. "No." He bumped the door open with his hip; "this time, _I'm_ going to fuck _you_."

Sebastian spluttered, shocked. Despite that, he allowed himself to be dragged into the bedroom without protest.

)

Kurt rolled over, wrinkling his nose at the feeling of come inside him as well as drying on his stomach; he looked to his left, only mildly surprised to see the side of the bed unoccupied. The smell of a fresh, homemade breakfast reached his nose, though, and he immediately knew just where Sebastian had gone. Kurt sat up, looking down at his hickie covered, red, purple, and scratch-mark littered lower half. He grinned with pride, raising his gaze just as a naked Sebastian waltzed into the room.

"Breakfast?"

Kurt blinked, mind going blank at Sebastian's cheerful tone. "Are you... alright?"

Sebastian seemed to realize his mishap, but he made no move to shift back into 'asshole mode.' "What, I can't be a nice guy sometimes?"

Kurt plucked a piece of bacon from the plate proffered. "Not since I've known you, no."

Sebastian sat in his spot on the bed, passing the tray to Kurt to rest it across his legs. "I like cooking." Sebastian explained with a shrug. Kurt stared at him, steadily taking in the admittedly delicious food; the bacon was just right, the pancakes weren't thin nor were they too fluffy; Sebastian had somehow managed to get Kurt's favorite kind of orange juice.

They sat in silence until the tray was cleared of food, with Sebastian accepting a bite from Kurt now and then; once it was gone, Kurt set it aside and held out his arms.

"You, Sebastian Smythe, are quite possibly the most adorable jackass I've ever met."


End file.
